


Missing

by karakael



Category: Naruto
Genre: Absent Parents, Family Feels, Gen, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6298708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karakael/pseuds/karakael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fic describing Kabuto's relationship with Mitsuki were he Mitsuki's father. Kind of angsty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing

When Kabuto returned home from market, his arms overflowing with scrolls of groceries, he found half the orphanage clustered around the hall coat closet. It wasn’t hard to guess the cause of the commotion, what with the soft sobs emanating from behind the locked door. 

He handed the scrolls off to two of the orphans and pushed them in the direction of the kitchen, then waded through the crowd to Urushi, who was looking grim.

“Its Kana.” Urushi said, and Kabuto heard the little hickupy sniffle he associated with the girl interrupt her quiet sobs. “The kids at school have been saying things about her mother - you know how they can be - and she won’t listen to reason. She’s been in there since class ended.”

Kabuto resisted an urge to say something biting about Konoha’s schooling, and instead focused on shooing the children away and saying to Urushi. “I’ll take care of this. You talk to the others. If Kana is being bullied, you can bet the boys have gotten the same treatment.

Urushi gave him a long look, then sighed and nodded. He was a good man, but his experiences left him less able to sympathize with the convoluted emotions many of their children brought with them to the orphanage. But in this, Kabuto was an unfortunate master.

So he waited while Urushi moved the children away, back to their daily chores, and ruminated on the number of closets he had coaxed children out of over the years. Not a skill one could put on their resume, but a skill none-the-less.

When they were all gone, he slid down the wall to sit, back against the door, and wait for the sniffles to die down a bit.

"They’re gone. Would you like to come out now?”

“No! I’m never coming out!”

“Okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

This time the ‘no’ was muffled by more sobs.

He listened for a while longer. At another break, he said,

“That’s alright. How about I talk?”

He took her silence as listening.

“Did you know that I have a son? A biological one, I mean.”

There was a scrape against the door, the sound of Kana shaking her head. No, she didn’t know. Most of the orphans didn’t.

“He doesn’t live here with us.”

Since he was listening for it, he just made out a quiet “Why?”

“Its a long story. I’ll tell it if you come out. You can go back into the closet later, if you don’t like what I say.”

He waited, and shortly he heard the sound of a latch, and Kana’s tear-stained face peeked out at him. She was six, with strawberry blond hair and star-burst marks peppering her cheeks, and Kabuto fought down the anger at any child who would take pleasure in making her cry so.

She crawled into his lap, just like she used to do for story-time, and he rested his chin against her curls.

He handed a crumpled picture to her showing a white-haired baby boy with yellow eyes.

“His name is Mitsuki. He’s about two years older than you, now.”

Kana examined the photo, then said. “I’ve seen him around school, I think.”

“He’s a genius, I’ve been told.” There was a sad pride in Kabuto’s voice. “His parent is a man I once knew, Orochimaru.”

“The man Miss. Karin and Uncle Juugo work for?”

“The same. Oro and I…” He paused, struggling to explain ancient history in words a child would understand. “We’re bad for each other. And when we’re together, bad things happen.”

“Like Gin and Usa?”

Kabuto snorted. Gin and Usa were the resident trouble makers, as bad as two Uzumakis. “Yes, exactly like Gin and Usa. A long time ago, we decided that it was best for everyone if we didn’t see each other any more. But he helps support the orphanage, and I still help with his work, sometimes. So when I heard he was pregnant, and wanted me to be the doctor, I said yes right away.”

Kana nodded, following the logic easily. Gin and Usa were always assigned to different classes at school. But if anything bad happened, they’d be at each other’s side in an instant, no matter how far away they were or what the teachers said.

“I knew something was strange, all throughout the pregnancy, but I didn’t let that stop me from caring for them just like I would any other patient. But I didn’t figure it out until after the birth. Right before that picture was taken.”

There was a waver in his voice and he didn’t try to hide it. His focus was on keeping the memory at bay, not letting the red-tinted lens of the past threaten the girl in his lap. But it rose up anyways, bringing with it the scent of clean sheets and hospital beds, Orochimaru’s triumphant face, and the silence from the little white-haired bundle in his arms.

“I looked at him…and I knew. Knew Orochimaru had gone behind my back, used my genetic code as half of Mitsuki’s, and lied to me all throughout the pregnancy.

"And…looking down at that little baby, I felt nothing but anger and betrayal. Nuns and priests aren’t allowed to have children of their own. By having my child, Orochimaru was ripping me away from my path, stealing my choice for my future, threatening all I had tried to make for myself. It was another way for him to control me and in that moment I felt more anger than I ever had, before or since.

"And then Mitsuki started crying. He’d picked up on my anger, felt the hatred directed at him and his parent and I couldn’t have been more ashamed. The boy had done nothing to warrant my feelings, and yet in that moment he had born the brunt of them, for Orochimaru didn’t care. He never cared. To him, Mitsuki was an experiment that had worked, and perhaps he hadn’t even thought further than that.

"So I cleaned the baby and handed him off to his caregiver, Juugo. I made sure he and Oro were healthy and safe. And then I left.”

Kana stilled in his arms, and Kabuto felt her stiffen, understanding the same conclusion he had come to. Still, he spelled it out.

“I could never be a good father to Mitsuki. Every time I look at him, I’d see Orochimaru. I’d be reminded of all the horrors of my past, of all the terrible things I had done and of all my regrets and anger. Mitsuki didn’t deserve that. No one does. But he had a family to go to, one that would care for him and keep him safe, and maybe even a parent who would grow to love him as I have grown to love all of you.”

(In truth, Kabuto would have never left Mitsuki behind, no matter the circumstances, had he not seen the expression on the man’s face at Mitsuki’s first cry. In an instant all that self-satisfied arrogance had melted away and without thinking Orochimaru had reached for the boy, his son, driven by an instinct so primal that even an undead abomination could be swayed by it. It was gone just as fast, and Orochimaru feigned indifference as Kabuto had tidied the child and handed him off, but the spark was still there, and with the eyes of half of Konoha on Mitsuki, the boy would be safe enough to perhaps change even someone like Orochimaru.)

“Kana, I don’t know if your mother had similar reasons for leaving you as I did for leaving Mitsuki. There are a million reasons why children end up here. But I do know that at some point your mother made the choice that you would be better here. That you would be safer, or happier, or have more opportunities with us than if you stayed with her. And in that moment she loved you. She loved you enough to let you go. Do you understand?”

Small tear drops pattered against his hands but the little girl nodded and smiled despite them. “I think I do.”

“Do you want to go back in the closet?”

She shook her head, and the smile got stronger. “No.” she wiped her face with her sleeve. “I’ve got chores to do. And homework.”

Kabuto nodded and set her down. “And dinner after that. I’m sure Usa and San are making your favorite right now.”

“Really?” Lettuce dumplings, if Kabuto remembered right, and he was grateful that he’d made sure to get all the ingredients. Kana was smiling genuinely now.

“Yes. Off you go, now.”

“Are you coming too?”

“In a bit. Don’t wait up.”

He watched her bound off, all that six-year-old energy returning to her step. When she rounded the corner, he let his head fall back against the door, and closed his eyes. His hands, clenched over his knees, shook for a moment.

Sometimes, opening a door brightened the darkness. Other times, it simply dimmed the light. Occasionally, both happened at once.

Sometimes, Kabuto was tempted to crawl into a closet of his own.

A shadow fell over him. 

“You told the Mitsuki story again.” Urushi sighed.

“Yes.”

“Why? You always end up a mess afterwards.”

“Because a hard truth is better to accept than an easy lie.”

“Is it worth it? To put yourself through that again?”

The memory roared in his mind, tinted with pain and regret. But when the bullies told Kana her mother was a whore, she would be able to respond “so what?” and laugh, better than all their small-minded idiocies. 

Was it worth it? Kabuto breathed through the regret and said,

“Yes.”


End file.
